You should’ve came with a warning

You—

should’ve came with a warning.

Not the cute kind,

not the “contents may be hot” stamped on a coffee cup,

I mean—

a blaring siren in my ribcage,

a hazard sign tattooed on your smile,

a “don’t enter” sign nailed straight into my trust.

LOL Instead,

you walked in

like a gentle breeze pretending it didn’t know

it was carrying a storm.

You—

looked like sunrise,

but you held midnight in your mouth.

Every kiss tasted like a promise

you were already planning to break.

I should’ve read you like a prescription bottle:

Side effects may include dizziness, nausea,

loss of self-worth,

and the inability to listen to love songs without choking.

But I…

I didn’t read the label.

I swallowed you whole.

No water. No pause.

Just faith.

Faith that burned hotter than my own common sense.

And now—

I’m sitting in the aftermath,

my heart like shattered glass

that still reflects your face in every sharp edge.

You—

should’ve came with a warning.

So I could’ve stepped aside,

closed the door,

and saved the version of me

that didn’t know what it was to be loved

like an afterthought.